Argosy, Vol. 112, No. 2 — page 177: what you’re looking at

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

GETTING THE EVIDENCE. of thousand ahead, I know—but that ain’t goin’ to last me forever. The boss don’t pay me so good, but he does it fairly often. Besides, there’s nothin’ to stop him from comin’ here and pullin’ the place himself.” “ That’s so,” admits Ed. “ T could have bet you’d agree with me!”’ Ttell him, makin’ for the phone. “ Well,” I tell the boss, “ we’re in.” “ Gettin’ evidence?” he wants to know. “Naw!” I says, disgusted. “I think they’re on to us. If they ever was playin’ the races here, they’ve stopped now.” “What are they doin’?” asks the boss. “ Why—er—”’ “ What?” “ They—they’re—” “Hurry up!” he snaps. ‘ They’re — er — holdin’ a prayer-meet- — in’! >? It was the first thing that popped into my head. What!” “ Holdin’ a prayer-meetin’,” I repeat, brazen as I can. “ Want to hear them?” I ask, openin’ the door of the booth and motionin’ Ed over. “Say a prayer!” I whisper to him when he arrives—‘“ out loud!” ce Hah?” ‘A prayer—say one—out loud!” ‘God bless our home!” he shouts. “ Hear that?” I ask the boss. “YT heard somebody cussin’,” says he. ‘““Say—you! There’s somethin’ phony about all this! I’m comin’ down to look the place over.” “Don’t! Please don’t!” I shriek into the phone, but I’m too late—he’s hung up. ‘We're in for it now,” I tell Ed. ‘“ The boss is comin’ down.” “T told you to hand in‘ this place two days ago,” he says. “ Let’s sneak another bet over—while we. can,” I say. I’m just in time to slip in a five-hun- dred-dollar wager on a horse named Jack Kelly when they quit takin’ bets on the first race. The nag cops at eight to five— eight hundred bucks for father! I get my -dough—in a hurry. “Well, what next?” I ask Ed. “ The boss ‘ll be here any minute. We're caught 343 —with the goods,” I says, feelin’ the roll in my pocket. “ He’ll never trust us again!” ‘He never did!” remarks Ed, which, I don’t mind tellin’ you, was the first and only bright sayin’ I ever heard from his lips. I think for a second. ‘“There’s only one thing to do,” I de- cide. “ We've got to beat it and head off the boss. We can tell him they just started takin’ bets after I phoned. Then we can all go to the Anti-Vicers, hand Handbook Charlie up to justice—and all will he well!” ‘“ Joe,” says Ed, “ you’re the smartest feller I ever knew!” “Well, come on,” I tell him, grabbin’ him by the wrist. “ Let’s go!” We start for the door, and we’ve almost reached it when— Down in the street an automobile engine starts puffin’. A bell sounds—and I know there’s only one kind of a wagon in the world that carries that kind of a gong! There’s the sound of heavy feet on the pave- ment. Loud voices is raised in angry shouts. The gentle patter of a couple of axes is heard against the street door. Fellers who was in the room start goin’ out windows, through the skylight—they was disapnearin’ out of everything that was open-—except Ed’s mouth! The lookout busts into the room. ‘Beat it! The cops!’ he)yells like he was furnishin’ news that nobody was aware of. “We can stick, can’t we?” asks Ed. “ Stick—-hell!’’ I shout, pushin’ him to- ward a window. ‘But we’re here on duty,” he objects. “So ’re the cops!” I snap. “ And in cases like this they do it with their clubs!” I squirm through the mob and leap from the window. Ed follows me. We land on top of a woodshed a floor below, jarrin’ everything but the money in our pockets. Somethin’ whizzes by my ear; then bang! it goes through the roof of the woodshed. It was nothin’ but the telegraph instruments and the table and batteries that was at- tached to them. A couple of tons of other light articles follow. For a secund I thought of stickin’ around to see if they’d throw any money out; but I decide that the trouble of takin’ it out of the safe would be too great (ECON A MICE v00KS com | ae as >