Argosy, Vol. 112, No. 2 — page 172: what you’re looking at

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

} Va ky, 7 : \ i, A. P be A ‘eae ab Pte hy} Tots it ryt Le . :* »*) . a Doo tops at Benicia. Hurrah, No. 66! Come in!” ‘Come out of your cave, you old gilded- hased silver-tip!”’ San Francisco called. “Don’t wait for spring! You’re needed at the zoo.” To all of which Dillon shouted into the mouthpiece: “ Shut up, you croakers, and keep the gate open!”’ Grim trembled and his eyes glistened as he heard; his muscles jerked with impa- tience, his blood leaped. Already he im- agined those fliers swooping above the ter- minals, he fairly choked with suppressed excitement. At last he was seeing the dust. “ Can’t—can’t [ couple on the reserve- magnets?” he pleaded. “Don’t need them,” Dillon smiled. * Run in in three minutes. It’s about over, Dungeon, and you’ve stood it like a gray one. We're under the bay now.” They watched, expectant; while the long car roared and shrieked into the blaze ahead. Distinctly they felt the lift as the grade ascended, and they climbed the ascent without a check. : ‘ There’s the red!”’ Dillon shouted, as the signal flashed by, and with a long whistle of relief he swung the magnets back. The shrill air scream droned to a hum, and they shot out of the tube into the overhead guides of the “ Frisco ” yards. There was a roar of voices about them as Dillon climbed stiffly down from the car. A dozen men seized him, jerked him about, all asking questions at once. ‘Who won?” Dillon gasped, finding his voice. “You did!” a uniformed official barked. “Twenty minutes to spare. A great race! Fourteen hours and seven minutes. It’s a record, Dillon, a record!” Dillon didn’t reply. He was staring at THE ARGOSY. something in the lever-room, at Grim, slouched in his seat, white, his hands hang- ing limp and nervéless. He fairly fought his way to the car, leaped inside, and seized Grim. ‘“ Help me here!” he yelled. ‘‘ Second’s gone under!” They carried him to a waiting-room and Grim opened his eyes in wonder. ‘It’s all right, Dungeon,” Dillon assured. ‘We beat them.” Grim smiled weakly, but closed his eyes without attempting speech. ‘“ Nerviest man I ever shot a tube with,” Dillon explained. ‘‘ You fellows don’t know. Devils plugged our gages in Salt Lake and sent us out without air. In the deep dive the gas got us, and I went under. He brought us through and saved the race!” ‘“Aw!” Grim muttered. “It jist hap- pened. I had to let her run.” On the surface that evening Dillon and Grim did the city, visited the aviation- fields, examined the big machines that had given them such a race, shook hands with the drivers, and talked over the events of the day. ‘““Man, but it’s queer!” Malcom, the driver of Mad Eagle, was saying. ‘ No- body seems to know there’s been a race. Think of it! Two world’s records in one day, in the air and underground, and no one but the tube men seem to know. fellows about us don’t know there’s been a race. The papers don’t mention it; no one speaks of it, the public is ignorant of it. Now what’s the use of a sky man bust- in’ clouds for a record if he gets no credit for it? It’s plumb disgustin’!”’ “What is credit, anyway?” Dillon asked, his tone sarcastic. ‘‘ Let me tell you, Malcom: ment one great, vital lesson. big things underground.” the big war taught our govern- Keep your “ David Vallory”’ is now in book form “A GLORIOUS FOOL” FRANCIS LYNDE fees: of “David Vallory,” etc. BEGINS OCTOBER 4 (E@) Those ~ (eC) _OOk