Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 17, 1924 — page 107: what you’re looking at

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

THE ELUSIVE MULE. “But didn’t they do anything with him at all?” Dirty Shirt persisted. “No use do anything with him at all,” Wong Gee replied softly. “‘ Him dead! Ah Fong killee him las’ Fliday! Him allee samee ‘damn tough guy’, but never any more stepee in China’s boy’s eye.” Wong Gee paused, “ Well, of all things!” Dirty Shirt gasped. “Who'd a thought a Chinaman had that much sense of proportions!” “Or eternal fitness or anything,” Solemn added, admiringly, Ah Fong silently dropped the black cloth patch into place over the hole where his right eye once had been; grinned hap- pily, with bland, childlike innocence and toddled toward the kitchen, ‘What you wantee to eat?” Wong Gee asked, suddenly; ‘“ Got some nicee boiled po’k an’ clabbage—”’ Solemn Johnson groaned. “ Bring me a he-man order of ham an’ eggs,” he cried, “and bring some pickles or something sour with it!” ‘‘ Solemn’s got forty eight hourse grace,” Dirty Shirt chuckled, “ before boiled pork and cabbage!” | “Shut up again!” Solemn growled, angrily. ‘‘ Nobody invited you to make a speech!” “Why, Solemn Johnson!” Dirty Shirt exclaimed in a hurt voice. “ Ain’t you goin’ to live up to your sacred word? Ain’t you goin’ to pay your bet? I’ve showed you a Chinaman with only one eye and now I’m anticipatin’ six dead mules or else—” ‘““My sacred word’s give, I told you!” Solemn interrupted viciously, “ I'll either compensate that one Chinaman with only one eye with six dead mules, or eat those boiled pork and cabbage according to schedule. Don’t worry about that! But for the present shut up and stay shut. I want to think!” Dirty Shirt subsided, The meal was eaten in silence save for an occasional snort from Solemn and sup- pressed, half-smothered chuckles from Dir- ty Shirt. Little indeed did Solemn Johnson sleep that night. While Dirty Shirt Smith slum- bered soundly and in peace, with a small TA Z 257 smile playing about his lips, as if he dreamed dreams that were pleasant and full of interest, Solemn walked alone out on the desert beneath the pale white stars, his brow furrowed by lines of anxiety and worry, his head throbbing with the burden of intense concentration, It was Friday, August 13th, at eight thirty P. M., when Solemn Johnson plus Dirty Shirt Smith beheld, for the first time, a Chinese—poor, decrepit, emaciated Ah Fong—with only one eye. Within forty eight hours, that is by 8:30 Sunday night, Solemn must lead Dirty Shirt to not less than six dead mules, or he would be honor bound to serve a seven day sentence of boiled pork and cabbage! Failure to produce the dead mules or in lieu thereof absorb seven consecutive shots of boiled pork and cabbage would be a violation of Solemn’s sacred word and such a contin- gency was unthinkable. Too late, Solemn Johnson realized his rashness, He racked his brain relentless- ly trying to think where it would be possible to make connections with even one dead ‘mule, much less a total of six dead mules in a solid cluster. Nowhere was there a ray of hope! Oh, why had he made such a foolhardy pledge? Stalking gloomily across the crunching sands, while the distant wailing of the van- dal wolves out at Arsenic Springs drifted dismally to his ears, Solemn’s spirits sunk to the lowest ebb; yet, with fine courage, with grim determination he mutteréd: “ Vl find them six damned dead mules, or else eat that boiled pork and cabbage even if it makes me sweat pure hog grease while I’m doin’ it!” In the gray dawn Solemn came wearily back into the deserted street of Red Bluff. Exhausted, trembling, his head pierced by flaming arrows of agony, he dropped down upon the front porch of Mother Skillern’s two story frame hotel, almost in the exact spot where he and Dirty Shirt Smith had sat the afternoon before and watched the fateful cloud of dust kicked up far out on the desert by the Barstow-Red Bluff stage and which, unknown to Solemn or Dirty Shirt, was bearing poor, feeble Ah Fong, a Chinese with only one eye, to Red Bluff. COmicloool< (C@