Argosy All-Story Weekly, August 9, 1924 — page 170: what you’re looking at

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

320 What is it? Wait! Ah! Yes! It’s my buddy—my mate. I left him in that place. I thought he was drunk. Come—come—” “'W’ere? Wat plyce?” “Cheng Lee’s. Right here. We—” “‘ Ph-wee-uh! Ph-wee-uh! Ph-wee-uh!”’ Bert had a whistle—army issue. ‘“ We got t’ get’ elp, ’arry. We'll ’ave Robert wyke up the red caps.” Presently came Robert, otherwise Police Constable Cross, breathless but unexcited, and not far behind him were the red caps —military police. Billy remained conscious just long enough to give his “‘nyme and number,” and that of George. It may be remarked here that the police U ODE TO ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. found nothing whatever amiss at Cheng T.ee’s, and at Keng’s, George was found sound asleep in bed all right and proper. He slept twenty hours and then awoke swearing that his mouth was filled with filthy ashes. That was after he had been moved about quite a bit. It wasn’t the police who found him, it was soldiers, a great many of them. The police were busy at Cheng Loo’s then; but afterward they were busy at Keng’s, keeping. the crowd back so that the fire brigade might work unhampered. They didn’t find Keng Ah, but later, in the morning when the ashes had cooled, they found what might have been Keng Ah once. U Le} MY TUB HEN the August sun is blazing, and the asphalt is a grid, When my collar wilts and wrinkles, while the sweat runs ’neath my lid; While I curse the fate that keeps me hustling here for daily grub, I’ve one solace never fails me—it’s my open-plumbing tub. You who’ve fled the heated city for the comforts of the farm, How I envy you your sojourn—I know all the country’s charm; Joyous lilt of glad mosquito, waiting on each grass and shrub, Dusty roads and sun-baked pastures, but no open-plumbing tub. When I’m shooting through the subway comes a yearning for the shore, Thoughts of cool, green waves advancing make me curse my fate some more; Then a reminiscent shudder at the sunburn—there’s the rub— I’ll be home in just ten minutes, in my open-plumbing tub. O thou porcelain enchantress, filled with water cool and clear, In thy damp embrace enfold me, summer solace without peer; Envy flees my grateful bosom—in my view that man’s a dub Who forsakes his city dwelling and his open-plumbing tub. L. Case Russell, 10 A COMMUC NOOK CO