Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 17, 1924 — page 89: what you’re looking at

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

SUNDOWN CAFE. 239 ing, is it? Wow! It’s celebratin’, that’s Boscoe. ‘Come on, men! We'll smash what — it’s dancin’, it’s love! She ain’t him!” Two men preceded Al Boscoe in playin’ for no grandfather. She’s playin’ for her lover—not for.ancestors, but for her progeny to come!” Al Boscoe roared at his joke. ‘“ And look at that Mex over there,” he went on, “orabbin’ his senorita by the neck. And that docker kissin’ the hand of a quadroon. They’re all beginning to burn—fire, b’God —that’s what she’s pourin’ out to us. And there’s a flossie sevorita \eadin’ two Cajans on with her oglin’. Which one of ’em will use his knife?” ‘Say, let me go!” Cora interrupted. ‘What sort of a barkeep do you think you are? My wrist ain’t a tap for you to twist! I ain’t made of mahogany for you to rub with that paw! Leave off!” But Al Boscoe, as well as all the marin- ers of the Sundown Café, had felt the witchcraft of Circe. He whirled Cora into his arms, and at the same moment, in a far corner of the gaming room a senorita, tus- sling with her too ardent lover, screamed. In another corner two bargemen fought for the hand of a dark-eyed quadroon; a knife whizzed; Cora and Herzog fled for cover. Al Boscoe caught a man by the collar and yelled: “ You spat.. I seen you spat! You spat tobacco right while the lady was fin- ishing her chantey!”’ The man fell’under a stroke that sound- ed like the back of an ax on a beef’s head. The Sundown Café came once again into its own, its epic glory! What had Modesta brought upon her- self! Was it possible this saint in falling in love was no longer immune to the ad- vances of men? “ Santa Maria!” she cried. ‘ This is a house of blood! I have finish!”’ She stood up by her harp, astounded at what had happened, terror stricken, looking mutely for some way to turn and flee—for some one to save her from that brawling gang. Glamours leaped to her side.. His dou- bled fist crashed into the teeth of a drunken stevedore. “ Get the bloody old Englishman!” Her- zog howled. ‘“‘ He’s the one that started it!” cried Al the attack. Glamours swung. One tumbled head- long into the sawdust, the other fled before a brandished chair. Al Boscoe’s nerve turned. He saw the circle widen about the mariner as he stood there poised to crash to the ground any man who advanced a step. The whole den quieted; lesser fights were forgotten as they sensed the fact that a champion was holding a gang at bay. Glamours took the girl’s arm and a lane opened before them as they went to the stairs. a ritual. Al Boscoe swallowed his curses as did Herzog. Glamours and the girl reached the bottom of the stairs unmolest- ed, and there she lifted her face to his. “ To-night—in my sala—alone!” Glamours watched her disappear into the shadows above. Then he looked back. Those mephitic mists that wreathed about the ancient priestesses of Hellas could not have veiled the background of brutes and wenches more pleasantly than the tobacco smoke in Herzog’s gambling den. If he had been with her out there in the patio bathed in the warm beams of the moonlight—in the throbbing light of the fireflies! No, it was not such a moment as that. She had not spoken of love. Glamours had rather the whimsical impres- sion that she had spoken of death. He did not have time to answer. The crowd bustled back to the tables; that hid- eous little pack animal, her mozo, labored and groaned under the weight of the harp. What she had whispered to Glamours came with a peculiar sting—not like the sting of a scorpion, but— There is no analogy! It surprised, then numbed, then pleased, then excited. Yes, they say down there that the tarantula has that effect; but Glamours was too much fascinated with the beauty of the girl to make such an odious comparison. He was left in an ecstasy, and yet he thought surely they were going to kill him. Having recovered from the shock of that whispered invitation, he decided definitely he would not obey it. To go up to a re- COMmicloooks Again there was the solemnity of. (C@