Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 3, 1924 — page 92: what you’re looking at

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

882 therefore is balkless. Naturally he is in- finitely superior to the unfortunate creature blinking his eyes idiotically there on the bar!” ‘ Blinkin’ der eyes!” Dirty Shirt in- sisted. “In addition—’’ Professor Hellbender, proceeded, ‘* Edith, so-called, has a Roman nose, a sign of degeneracy found only among the scrub variety of horntoads indigeneous to southwestern Nevada and Red Bluff—”’ ‘Hold on!”’ Colonel Spilkins exclaimed. “Are you implyin’ that southwestern Nevada and Red Bluff horntoads are scrubs?” The professor waved his hand contempt- uously. “Your despicable horntoads,” he an- swered, sneeringly, ‘“ can’t help being what they are! No one blames them. But as a horntoad expert of national circulation, I am forced to confess that the whole bunch, including that pitiful thing on the bar, are merely inbred, knock-kneed, knot- headed, scorbutic, scrofulous scrubs! Ina pinch they (embracing Edith as he is im- properly termed!) won’t run at all but will balk!” Never had Red Bluff been so efficiently insulted. Every pioneer present boiled in- wardly with rage. For a moment a speech- Jess fury settled over the Seventh Oasis. Colonel Spilkins finally unjointed the silence: ‘We'll take a chance on Edith balkin’,” he said coldly, his gray eyes looking sternly at the other. ‘ After what has been uttered, a horntoad race is inevitable! Speaking for Red Bluff and the immortal solar plexus of southwestern Nevada, I wish to inform you, sir, that no Utah horntoad on earth has got us buffaloed to the slightest degree! Produce this alleged ‘ Brigham XVII’ and justify your aspersions!” The crowd murmured approval. “As the unquestionable racin’ horntoad authority of the civilized universe,’’ Pro- fessor Hellbender started to argue, ‘‘ I spoke as my conscience and judgment dictated.” ‘“‘ Never mind dictatin’ so much,” Dirty Shirt interposed; “go get your horntoad and show us! A race between Edith and Brigham XVII is what we are cravin’!” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “Very well,” the professor yielded, “Edith (pardon me for smiling!) and Brigham shall be matched for a race! With your consent, the place shall be here in the Seventh Oasis; the distance, the the length of the bar; the time, to-morrow afternoon at 3 o’clock sharp!”’ Professor Hellbender turned and walked silently from the Seventh Oasis. In the street he paused, emitted a chuckle, twisted one eve into a wink and softly exclaimed: ‘““My kingdom now for a horntoad. And any old horntoad ’ll do!” Solemn Johnson plus Dirty Shirt Smith, with Edith, arrived early at the scene of disaster. It was the afternoon of the fol- lowing day and drier, if possible, than usual. Red Bluff was in the most stupenduous mood for a horntoad race in the memory of the metropolis. Already many prominent Red Bluffians were gathered in the Seventh Oasis, eager to witness the impending event. Colonel Spilkins, official starter; Ed Slocum, stake holder—if Professor Hell- bender could be induced to put up stakes to be held—and Chuck Roden, time-keeper, were present and waiting. Three times Dirty Shirt sent Edith over the course in ex- hibition or warming-up flights. Never be- fore had Edith seemed so nimble, so agile, se vivacious, so anxious to run. The crowd generously applauded the ‘ try-outs.’ “ She’s faster, if anything,” Dirty Shirt exulted, “than that day she traveled up Solemn’s pants leg out at Arsenic Springs!” Solemn grinned good-naturedly. His attitude toward Edith had changed. Until the arrival of Professor Hellbender, Slocum had viewed Edith with a measure of scorn. But with the total stranger’s thinly veiled thrusts at the integrity, the breeding, the swiftness of Red Bluff horntoads en masse and Edith herself as a special dispensation, Solemn felt his dislike for Edith change into affection and admiration. She became the representative of thé honor of Red Bluff; an epitome, as it were, of the character, the nimbleness, the cour- age, the high aspirations of the entire horn- toad population of the glistening solar plex- COMG DOO! (©