Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 3, 1924 — page 165: what you’re looking at

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

A RODEO ROMEO. ‘“* Depends on the kind of a race,” inter- rupted Larkin. ‘I know little short guys like Tex Allen what might run a big guy ragged in a race for a lady.” ‘“* Yeh, Tex is short,” granted Slim. “‘T’ll say he is,” said Larkin, “ but that don’t slack his speed none with the ladies. Right now he’s with a lady a certain long- legged hombre not far from here ain’t been hatin’ none for the last year.” ‘They was playin’ checkers when I come by,” spoke up Tiny Blodgett bestirring his two hundred and fifty pounds of bulk. ‘I could see right in the porch window.” “Checkers?” said Slim. ‘“ Huh, guess it’s my move.” He ambled back to his herse and loos- ened the hitch. ‘“‘ Cheerio,”’ called the gang. “ Cheerio,” replied Slim. A moment later he was galloping toward the Markins’ bungalow. In it resided the family of May Markins, who in three months had said “‘ No ” forty-nine times to proposals from Slim Watson, whose parents had taken shameful advantage of him twen- ty-four years before by christening him “Cesar,” with the middle name of “* Augustus.” Slim approached the Markins’ place from the rear. He walked his horse through a back yard pasture intending to hobble it by the garage. He knew where he would find May. On the side porch. She would be in the hammock while Tex Allen, fas- cinator of the fair sex, would be sprawled lazily at her feet, or maybe squatted by her side. Slim felt miserable as he visualized the latter. They wouldn’t have played checkers long. May was not the type to waste a fine evening at an indoor sport as tame as checkers. He was dismounting in the rear of the garage, but stopped suddenly as he heard voices from within. There was the metallic fumbling of engine parts. He heard Allen speak, then May. The cowboy’s voice was the fainter. He was bent over the car’s hood talking into the engine. Slim could tell by the peculiar intonations of his voice tones. “ The trouble with you gals,” Slim heard 955 Allen say, “is yuh don’t know your own mind. Sometimes somebody has to make it up for yuh. Now if this guy Slim who you say aims so hard to marry yuh would sud- denly give yuh the air and start strummin’ his guitar in somebody else’s hammock you would darned soon find out just how he stood with yuh.” “Oh, I don’t know.” This from May accompanied with a sigh. “ Well, I do.” Allen beat a tattoo on an engine part. ‘ You’re just like broncos. Gotta make a bronc’ respect yuh ’fore you kin get anywhere with him. An’ in order to make him do that yuh has to treat him wicked sometimes.”’ ‘Do you mean to insinuate that I could even like a man who presumed to treat me wicked,” asked the young lady in frigid voice. Allen: Tink, tink, tink. ‘ Darn this plug. Like him, heavens no, yuh wouldn’t like him. Yuh’d just love him to death. A little roughin’ an’ yuh’d be eatin’ out of his hand.” “Why, that’s perfectly ridiculous.” The lady was astounded. “Tt is, heh.” Tink, tink—tink. “ Wish he’d try it.” ‘So do I. Id soon put him in his place.” Allen laughed. ‘ I'll say you would. An’ yuh know where that place’d be, don’t yuh?” He answered himself. ‘ Along by your side in front of a sad-faced parson, or a justice of the peace.” ““T think you’re horrid,” said the girl. ‘“ No-0-000-0, just sensible,’’ drawled the cowboy. “I wasn’t in the movies for nothin’. I learned a lotta things. I used to shy one time if a curl moved. Almost jump out o’ my boots. But after I took the Hollywood cure I could umpire a ball game with Cleopatra whistlin’ to me to come over an’ play in her yard.” “Is that how they win them in Holly- wood—bein’ rough?” asked the girl. “Oh, they have different rackets out there,” drawled Allen. ‘“ The surest one is to walk on ’em a week then they’re beggin’ yuh to notice ’em.” “TI don’t believe it,” said May with em- phasis. “Huh. Shoot yerself,” said Shorty. comnfiiclsoo! (©