Argosy All-Story Weekly, August 9, 1924 — page 34: what you’re looking at

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

184 the palsy, the newcomer begged a drink in a shaky voice scarcely audible. “‘Here’s dos reales,’ said Larry, filled with revulsion. He watched the man, strangely fascinated, as he turned to the bar and ordered a half pint of white eye. His red rimmed eyes, so inflamed they seemed to be on fire, gleamed with impa- tience while Joe measured out the liquor. Seizing the full glass, he poured it down his throat as though it was water, and then staggered to a chair, where he fell into a deathlike stupor almost as soon as he was seated. Larry had seen many of these men. He recalled with what horror he had looked upon the first one. It was in a small native hut, near where their first camp was estab- lished. The man had lain on a piece of guana bark spread on a dirt floor, clad only in a dirty undershirt and grimy cotton trousers. His face, unshaven, was of a sick- ly greenish pallor. He had leered hopelessly up at Larry through purple rimmed, blood- shot eyes, while five little naked children, ranging in age from a creeping baby to a boy of eight, had gazed pathetically up at the intruder. The lighter shade of their skin attested to the white blood in their veins. A dour faced, half caste woman had been sullenly grinding corn for the tor- tillas in one corner of the windowless hut thatched with palm leaves, and inclosed with split poles bound together with a strong vine. “White eye and women,” had been the brief comment of the chief engineer when Larry mentioned the incident later. As he looked now at the huddled form in the chair a slight shudder passed through his body. Into his inner consciousness there crept the knowledge that these men had tried to quit—tried to draw back—when they saw the hell pit yawning to receive them. Like him, they had struggled to overcome this craving, but pitifully few had ever accomplished the feat. Joe, who had been watching the tableau from behind the bar, came around to Larry’s table. No one would have picked fat, gross, sin steeped Panama Joe as the one who would try to pull a soul back from the bot- tomless gulf. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “ T remember when that buzzard bait was a big contractor in Panama,” he said, in- dicating the figure in the corner. ‘“‘ White eye got im, like it gits all them that drinks it:” Larry reached toward the glass, but Joe put out a hand and stopped him. ““T picked you up and put you to bed last night, kid, after the rest o’ that gang cleared outa here. I don’t know why I did it. Guess it’s account o’ seein’ so many go the road you're travelin’. Seems like it’s allus them ’at’s most likable slips down to hell the fastest. An’ I allus kind o’ liked you from the first time you come in here and got stabbed account o’ that little dancer.” A dull wonder came over Larry. “You was jist a pink faced kid then,” continued Joe, “ an’ it kind o’ gimme a twitch in the heart, seeing you layin’ there with that fleck o’ bloody froth on yer lips. I had the same feelin’ last night when I seen you layin’ there asleep, an’ helpless, with yer head fallen over on that table. You ain’t much more’n a kid now. Twenty- three’s mighty young to have the lines on yer face you have. “T heard about you long before you come in here that night. ‘Cold feet,’ the fellas said you had, when they was tellin’ the story about yer leavin’ that Debran woman cold. She only wanted you on account o’ yer youth an’ innercence. I know her kind, sellin’ their body to an old man for his gold, an’ lookin’ somewheres else fer their pleasure.” The very strangeness of hearing Panama Joe talk like this kept Larry listening, de- spite a resentment at his interference. “You’ve traveled a long ways since then,” went on the toughest customer in Guatemala. ‘‘ But you must been clean er you wouldn’t ’a’ held out s’long as you did. I knowed what it was made yer draw back —it was the mem/’ry of yer mother. They laughed that night when they told it, but they’re the same as laughed when the Nazarene asked fer a drop o’ water. ‘“‘T don’t know what started you on this road. Mighta bin a girl in the States went back on you. That’s what starts most of ‘em. But this white eye is brewed by the GOMIIGIOO S (CO) nn