Argosy All-Story Weekly, March 15, 1924 — page 164: what you’re looking at

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

JOSH STEBBINS IN GREENLAND. 793 “ What did you break them oxen to plow for? Did vou raise any crops up there?” asked Jeff Tate. ‘Wal, Andray hed some seed pertaties, an’ rye in his balloon,.an’ we planted them an’ got mighty good crops. We were doin’ well ez fer ez crops an’ stock was con- cerned, with plen’y of milk an’ cheese with rye bread, deer meat an’ wild beef thet hed a little musky taste to it, but fer men thet was used ter salt horse an’ hard tack, it wasn’t very fillin’ ter say nothin’ of hevin’ ter chew willer bark insted o’ plug terbaccer. . Andray did make a little home brew, with rye an’ spuds. It hed. considerable kick to it, with a dozen headaches to the gallon, but it didn’t have the taste thet good old. barrel house stuff has. But me an’ Bar- ney wasn’t built fer doin’ the Robinson Crusoe stunt fer very long. We hankered fer a smell o’ salt water an’ a feed o’ salt horse an’ hard tack, with the taste o’ tar in our mouths, with some good black navy plug fer smokin’ an’ chewin’, insted o’ wil- ler bark, an’ ter sit down to a little round table in a city front saloon fer a game 0’ seven-up, or Pedro fer the drinks, with the fiddles a squeakin’ in the back room an’ the boys dancin’ an scrappin’ every now an’ then, jest fer the fun of it. Men off a lime juicer making sport o’ our Yankee clippers, an’ gittin’ knocked out fer doin’ it... “We jest couldn’t stand sech a quiet life ez we was livin’, an’ got readv to go.’ ‘How did you manage to get back?” asked Pat McGoogle. ’ “ Why, we rigged up a ‘ dirigible balloon ” ez they call ’em, outa Andray’s old gas bag. Wild geese an’ swans bred every season on the ponds an’ lakes all round us an’ we hed tamed a lot of ’em an’ trained ’em to. tow us around in a canoe, they flyin’ with a string hitched to their legs, an’ we only - had to steer it with the paddle. ‘When in the fall they was gittin’ ready to fly so’th fer the winter, we tied up about fifty of ’em, an’ takin’ the balloon over to where we’d found a spring o’ this hellyan gas, I reckon they call it, thet won’t ex- plode, but has good liftin’ power, we filled her up ez tight ez a drum. We loaded the basket of the old coach with lots o’ ne eee a: vet reyn A fe. Wa bes nwrad grub an’ pienty of dressed furs. We knowed the tails o’ them long tailed bears would sell fine fer them boas thet ladies wears, an’ we hed quite a bunch of silver fox pelts be- sides. We turned the ranch over to Andray to hold in trust fer us if we ever come back, an’ takin’ some papers thet he told us to deliver to the Polar Research Society of Paris, we hitched: on our birds, an’ cut loose the rope thet was holdin’ us down. We shot up outa the Hole, forty miles be- - low sea level, like a bat outa hell, the geese . honking an’ the swans trumpetin’ with me an’ Barney a singin’ £ There'll be a Hot Time in the Old Town To-Night.’ A wind from the northeast caught us ez we passed Over the rim o’ the Hole an’ we started so’th at more’n two hundred miles an hour, I reckon, fer we was above the clouds ‘an’ couldn’t see nothin’ below us, but hed plenty o’ company, fer the air was full o’ geese, swans, ducks, hawks, owls, an’ other birds all bound so’th the same as we was an’ all gabblin’ and cacklin’ in their own pertickler lingo. : % “We musta run fer more’n two days without seein’ the land below us or gettin’ our bearin’s, an’ the birds was plumb tired. wantin’ to land an’ take a rest an’ git some- _ thin’ to eat, but we kept ’em at it till jest €z we Was ‘about a hundred miles from Gal- veston, in Texas, we come down outa the clouds to about a thousand feet above the earth, when all to once the hull bunch 0’ birds dropped their wings an’ fell,. dead from overwork, hangin’ on their traces an’ pullin’ us down to the ground. We opened the valve to let out a leetle gas, but the valve stuck an’ she emptied, lettin’ us fall kersmash right in the middle of a. colored camp meetin’, jest ez the preacher was reachin’ up his arms ter heaven an’ prayin’ the Lord to come down an’ bless ’em. When them blacks seen it rainin’ wild geese an’ swans out of a clear sky an’ the basket of the balloon smashed the pulpit, an’ me an’ Barney crawled out from under it dressed in bear an’ musk ox hides, an’ with three years’ growth o’ hair an’ whiskers, since we last seen a barber, I reckon they thought he called up the wrong number, fer they all struck out fer the brush on a run an’ I reckon some of ’em are runnin’ =yn4 7) Vet. |