Argosy All-Story Weekly — "The Purple Limited" — page 137: what you’re looking at

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

THE METAL MONSTER. For a time we were silent. ‘* Well,” he said at last, ‘“‘ we have to go to the city in the morning.” He laughed. “ Sounds as though we were living in the suburbs somewhere, doesn’t it?” “It can’t be many hours before dawn,” I said. ‘“ Turn in for awhile, Dick; Tl wake you when I think you've slept enough.” “It doesn’t seem fair,” he protested, but sleepily. ‘I’m not sleepy,” I told him; nor was I. But whether I was or was not, I wanted to question Yuruk, uninterrupted and undis- turbed. Drake stretched himself out, head bor- 703 ing about for the softest spot in his saddle- bag. He found it; settled; then blinked at me. ‘“‘ Sure,” he murmured, “ that’s what I wanted to tell you. Like the electric eel.* An eel as big as that star Thing that light- ninged Ventnor, and I’ll bet its current would be as great or greater. Nothing mi- raculous in that—electric eels—armidillos —once you spot the thing—nothing to it— we'll show ’em—” He dropped into slumber, still muttering. When his breathing showed him fast asleep indeed, I slipped over to the black eunuch and crouched, right hand Close to the butt of my automatic, facing him. This story will be continued in next week’s issue of the ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, the consolidated title under which both magazines will appear hereafter as one. * Gymnotus electricus; its electrical organs are modifications of the lateral muscles supplied with numerous branches from the spinal nerves and extending the whole length of the tail. The posterior end of the organ is positive, the anterior negative. of three feet and the thickness of a man’s thigh. The electric eel attains a length It frequents the marshes of Brazil and the Guianas. I have seen one of these creatures stun, successively, six mules before it could be. handied.—W. T. G. U U U U ON THE DEATH MASK OF NAPOLEON BY LILLIAN P. WILSON How deeply dead you are, Napoleon! Great Emperor, Little Corporal. How high, and cold that forehead, Which once surged with the fires, Of a million destinies, And more. So harmless now. How direct, austere, that slender nose, Which in its day ~ Made sovereigns tremble, With its mere dilation. ‘The mouth, how firm, Set in the manner of a.new campaign. The chin determined. To what end? The cheeks, how hollow, And the eyes, like sunken graves. As if Napoleon you had tried, To drag the Earth, in death with you. . As a child in moving, Carries all the way, his favorite toy. Sire, I pity you— ‘ Now—that I may. - You who scorned the world’s compassion. What a strange peace Has settled in your sunken eyes. Like sleep, _ Sleep of a babe, at its mother’s breast, Sleep of Gods, Reposing, since the birth of time. Sleep we cannot understand! And so we call it death. Because it tricks us. | Because without a sign, a sound, It drops its playthings To immortal depths, - As we let trinkets sink into the sea, At night. Ah, Napoleon, -those. eyes are too quiet! That mouth too set To be subdued. Still are you marching on to victory, Content that greater battles are ahead, Little Corporal of the Dead. (C(O) nn) ”) 6)(0)©) S (C(O) nn