Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 3, 1924 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

812 the sea and its superstitions? thinks you’re a boarding master! ‘‘ A fine boarding master you are! You ought to be up in northern Texas punching cows. That’s where you belong—like you used to do. Or was you only the chuck man? That’s more like it. But you listen to me. I’ve got somethin’ -to tell you. Until that there body of Mate Grimpen, which was knifed here in this tavern—until it gets took out to sea and heaved by the board like a ship’s officer had oughta be buried—watch out for your own soul and for the soul of everyone in this here house. That body won’t rest I tell you. It’ll turn over in its grave! It’ll ha’nt you! It’ll bring damnation on the whole crew of us. It'll make us all stark mad.” : The effect of this speech exceeded the barkeep’s fondest hopes. ‘The miserable little innkeeper seemed already panic- stricken—hysterical, at the possible immi- nence of Boscoe’s horrible prophecy. It was astounding that the thought of a seaman buried in potter’s field could wreak such a havoc upon the imagination of that hard shelled rapscallion, Herzog. A gush of frightened oaths came from the little man’s throat; he paled—or rather turned gray, left his glass of cuevo unfin- ished, whirled about and hobbled into the patio as if groping in the dark for a refuge —something to which to pin his faith in reality. It was a moment—very rare in the life of old Herzog—when he wanted some one to show him the way of truth, how to save his mind from the horrors of the super- natural, the unearthly. He wanted to find the reassurance of a confidante who would save his soul. And so the miserable little wretch went to find his wife. Cora Herzog, in fact, was the only human being, aside from Al Boscoe, who was in the Sundown Café that sultry afternoon. “Look here, Cora, you don’t believe in ha’nted houses and all that, do you? There ain’t no such thing, is there? We're crazy when we think about it, ain’t we?” “ Pull yourself together, Herzog, and take another drink,’’ was Cora’s answer. Her voice and her sentences perhaps were the very touch of reality that the distracted Herzog was looking for. You that ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, “Well, let me tell you this, woman: the Old Horny is going to rule this place from now on. We are damned—the whole gang of us! They ain’t goin’ to be a moment’s peace in the Sundown Café from now on. And why? Tl tell you why. It’s my fault—poor unfortunate that Iam: I went ag’in one of the superstitions that you can’t go agin without you pay with your soul. I’m done for, Cora.” Cora seemed unperturbed. “Are you going crazy?” she asked blandly. The other snapped back. ‘ Yes, I am going crazy. That’s just it. And it’s be- cause of that there body of Mate Grimpen which was buried in potter’s field.” ‘You was crazy long before you ever heard of Mate Grimpen,’’. Cora remarked. ‘Look here, you listen to me if you know what’s good for you. If you don’t want a bash in the mouth you listen good and hard. I’ve got lots to tell you. Thought I'd keep it to myself, but I can’t. It’s twisting my brains inside out. It’s a secret which you ought to know. It’s for you and me that I done what I done.” Cora looked at once skeptical and inter- ested—as for instance a nurse will listen to a child who comes to gossip. ‘“What I ought to have done was to heave Mate Grimpen’s body in the bayou, but ™ didn’t. And here’s how we’re paying for it: The coroner comes and looks him «ver. The authorities takes him away and buries him. His dying wish—vou remember that as well as I do—was that he be buried at sea. Well, that ain’t all, before they took him away I went through his clothes and I found something. No, it wasn’t mon- ey. Always thinkin’ of cash, ain’t you? Can’t get it out’n your head, can you? No, and it weren't jewels! And it weren’t a map to no pirates’ treasure. Here’s what it was.” He took a wallet out of his coat. It gave the appearance at first of paper money and Cora’s eyes bulged expectantly. ‘‘ News- paper clippings, that’s all.” ‘* Pouf!” Cora grunted disgustedly. | * Yes. Pouf! Pouf all you want, but its goin’ to bring us money—some day. Lookee here!”’ He took the clippings out—a half dozen COMIGD OOo! S CO) nn