Argosy, Vol. 112, No. 2 — page 168: what you’re looking at

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

304 Cloud Queen waiting. Drivers McBain and Wright going up. Nothing in sight yet. “Scotty McBain, eh!” Dillon growled, glancing at the speed-gage. “ They certain- ly picked the proper man. And Wright, too. Best air-current trailer in the West. Once clear of Kansas City we'll check her up, eat a bite, and when we strike the long level we’ll lock her down.” They shot wnder Kansas City and through the subway tube at half-speed; then when the depth-gage showed an even forty feet they locked her down and settled themselves for the race to Sta- tien 20. For half an hour they rushed ahead with hardly a variation in the scream of the air, or in the needle on the speed-gage. At an average depth of only forty feet they bur- rowed the plains of Kansas and Colorado in a direct line for Salt Lake City. The informer was silent. Nothing about them offered relief for their tired eyes; the blaz- ing tube ahead seemed some devilish, per- sistent thing that hounded and laughed de- risively in their ears. Grim touched Dillon’s shoulder. “ The- them fe-l-lers in th-there,” he chattered, glancing back into the car at the depart- ment men. “ Reckon the-their he-heads ’ve gone ba-batty.” Dillon turned with a muttered curse. “ Tube trance!”’ he snorted, noting the set, staring faces “ Company might have known better. Of course they can’t stand it. Nothing for it but to shoot them through and leave them at Station 20. Don’t look at them, they’ll go down in a minute, and that ‘ll bring them out of it. Shutter the windows, that’s the only thing.” “ Reck-reckon I’m go-o-in’ down my-my- self so-o-n,’’ Grim stammered, his eyes wide, his face white. ‘Not by a blamed sight!” Dillon rasped, grasping a wrench. “ You’ve got to watch that informer! ‘The first time you freeze I’ll bang your head with this wrench!”’ Grim’s eyes flashed anger, and his fists clenched. “Look here, Dungeon! Are you a kid oraman? Do you want to lose this race or win it? Are you a quitter or are you game? THE ARGOSY. Stop that vacant staring and clean those dials; we want to know what we’re doing. And shut up that teeth-rattling!” Grim listened, open-mouthed, and then he reviled Dillon with all the superlative adjectives his tramp life had taught him. Dillon smiled gleefully, and shot him a glance of approval. “ That’s better,” he mentioned. ‘‘ There’s good in your carcass yet if you can keep from bleating!” They felt the lift of the grade, and Dil- lon knew they were in the foothills below Denver. “Take these levers, Dungeon,” he said. There’s a lot of climbing for us now, some dips, too. You’d better get used to them. I'll just blind your window,” he observed, closing the shutter. I can watch from mine, and you take it easy.” Grim reached forward and slammed the shutter wide open. “I c’n do me own watchin’!”’ he glowered. Whereupon, Dillon grinned and said something about mules. The informer began to run and they caught the message: Aircraft sighted high above the foot-hills; five miles south. Supposed to be the Shoot- ing Star. None other in sight. Apparently light, southerly winds. “ Cloud Queen is trailing,” Dillon said. “ McBain will bring her up soon as Wright finds favorable currents. We've got our work before us, Dungeon, with ten minutes’ stop at Station 20.” Under the mountains of western Colorado they flashed, across a few chasms bridged with a circular tube, under rivers and lakes, boring westward, shooting beneath the earth’s surface, under deserts and wooded slopes, heights towering above them, and at their side barely fifty feet of rock between them and a canon’s brink. ‘“You’re looking better, Dungeon,” Dil- lon grinned. “I didn’t know you knew so many choice adjectives. It’s a shame to waste them underground.”’ Grim’s mouth-corners twitched, but his eyes glowed solemn and steady. “ It’s hell when a feller feels it comin’ on,” he said, ‘un he’s down here underground. Reckon ~* it’s like a buryin’ before you’re dead.” JOOKS (ECON AIC com> md