Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 17, 1924 — page 106: what you’re looking at

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

256 of Wong Gee’s café at which point they paused for a moment. “A Chinaman with only one eye may be terrible scarce,” Dirty Shirt persisted stub- bornly, “‘ but when it comes to a show down they’re probably thicker than horntoads out in Hellfire Basin, if a man just knowed where to go to look for them. But, on the other hand, where can anybody, man, woman or infant go and locate a dead mule ——or even a piece of one?”’ “ That’s just it,” Solemn snarled, bal- ancing himself carefully before entering the restaurant; “ you’re always jumpin’ at con- clusions! You imagine everlastingly that you know everything! But I’ll bet seven- teen lemon sodies that I’ll show you six dead mules within forty eight hours every time you show me one isolated never-to-be- forgotten Chinaman with only one eye!” “You're liable to have the liberty to buy them lemon sodies or show them six dead mules,” Dirty Shirt shot back, wickedly, “No man knows how soon he might ne- gotiate a Chinaman with only one eye.”’ “ Produce your Chinaman with only one eye!” Solemn snapped. “ Just produce him! Produce him, I tell you and Ill buy them lemon sodies; 1’ll take the liberty of show- in’ you those six dead mules! I'll show you them six dead mules or—or—” a familiar odor wafted from the kitchen of Wong Gee’s cafe and a sudden wild reck- lessness possessed Solemn. “ll show you them six dead mules,” he repeated, “‘ or—or'I’ll eat boiled pork and cabbage for dinner every day for a solid week, no matter how hot the weather is! That’s my sacred word—my sacred word an’ honor, Six dead mules within forty eight hours for every Chinaman with only one eye, or boiled pork and cabbage every day for dinner for a total week.” The words froze on Solemn’s lips. Dirty Shirt clutched Solemn’s arm. “Well, of all things! Looky yonder!” he exclaimed. Wong Gee, immaculate in white apron, et cetera, had stepped forward, smiling brightly as Solemn and Dirty Shirt came into the room, and behind the counter, Ah Fong, a pie poised in his hand ready to be deposited on the pastry shelf, the black ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, " cloth patch dangling pathetically over his right eye, looked around at that instant and grinned, Solemn and Dirty Shirt slumped into chairs at the nearest table. ‘““Who—what th’—who’s that extra Chinaman?” Solemn spluttered; ‘‘ where— where’d he come from and what’s that— that—black rag over his face for?” Wong Gee chuckled softly, ‘Him Ah Fong,” he said. “ Velly nicee ol’ man! All samee uncle—fathel’s blother. Livee in San Flanciso’. Losee Angel’s, all alound clountry. Nicee ol’ man. Come on Blastow stage today! Pletty soon all timee help Wong Gee washee dishee.”’ Ah Fong paddled around from behind the counter and stood beside Wong Gee. “ But—but—that black rag?” Solemn stammered uneasily. “ What’s under it?” ‘“ Nothin’,”” Wong Gee laughed. ‘“ Used to be eye! Not any more—him gone. Ah Fong show!” Ah Fong lifted the black cloth. The grim, sunken socket that once housed the right hand window of Ah Fong’s soul yawned pitifully empty from beneath the concealing curtain! ““ Fer—fer—Gawd’s sake!” choked. “Six dead mules in forty eight hours,” Dirty Shirt Smith snickered, “six dead mules or—or boiled pork an’ cabbage for an absodamnedlute week.” “ Shut up!” Solemn barked. ‘“ Ain’t you got no idea of decency or humor or any- thing?” Wong Gee and Ah Fong exchanged sig- nificant glances. “ How—how did it—it happen to you?” Dirty Shirt whispered. “‘ Long time ago,” Wong Gee replied, “‘in Losee Angel’s. Ah Fong him workee in chop suey place down on Spling Stleet. One night plenty bad man—velly damn bad—come! Him dlunk! Gettee mad— knockee Ah Fong down—steppee in his eye. Light away eye gone! Him plenty bad man—what you calle ‘damn tough guy!’ ” “ Didn’t Ah Fong have him arrested?” Dirty Shirt asked. “No good have him a’lested,’”’ Wong Gee grinned; ‘‘ Ah Fong eye al’leady gone!” 6A Solemn Gomichdooks (C@