Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 25, 1924 — page 167: what you’re looking at

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

PACKING and make another trip. The irony of the thought sickened him. ‘There was no such thing as wait. Life was feverish waiting until this voyage was over. Certainly he couldn’t survive another. Besides whith they would be back in New York in mid- summer, and another trip would take them into the falt when he would have to wait through the winter.. Oh, misery! His dream lay a forlorn wreck, but wrecked worse was his resolution. The great incentive to stay sober while in France, whither the ship was bound, had now burst like a bubble. Yes, there was surcease of grief. There was a few hours of forget- fulness at least. What was the use of try- ing to behave oneself, anyway? {T. THE gloom in the galley hung like a storm cloud that night and the next day. Rufus, the talkative and good-humored, had been transformed into a man so sullen, taciturn and morose that there was some misgiving about eating his food. When the ship had docked, he quietly but sadly donned his blue serge suit, his painfully stiff new shoes and his ancient derby and went ashore alone with his sor- row. It was a bright sunshiny afternoon, and Usine-Boule lay like a little fairy city along the Loire. Rufus had no eye for the beauty; he locked only for a café. As he went.along a narrow, dingy street, he was roused from a heartbroken reverie by some one seizing hold of his arm. It was not gentle, it was a viselike grip. His lower arm went numb, as he turned and looked up into a countenance that might have been that of a gorilla. ‘“ Wait a minute, son,” the monster was saying. “If ye don’t wanta git yourself crippled fer life.” This ferociously. Rufus looked at the massive shoulders. “‘ Er—yes, sir,’’ he said uncertainly. “You’re a cook on a ship, ain’t ye?” “ Er—yes, sir,” faltered Rufus. “ On the Osiris, yes, sir; ye’re right, sir.” “The Osiris, eh? Well now, that’s all right. Now that’s fine, yer jest the man I want to stow me away in that ship. Yep, I’m glad I come across you.” 157 Visions of further trouble flashed across Rufus’s bewildered brain “But, sir, Pll be logged again—” “Tl give ye fifty bucks!” interrupted Mr. Gorilla. Rufus hesitated. “I can’t, sir—” Mr Gorilla closed a fist that looked like a huge coconut. “All right, I’m gonna bust ye right in the kisser—” he snarled. “No, no, I mean I’ll do it,” Rufus has- tened to add. “T see you got sense. _Now I might as well tell ye who I am, so if ye start any- thing ye’ll know what to expect. I’m an American professional strong man, see, an’ I was over here appearin’ in vaudeville, an’ got stranded, see. I’m a reg’lar fella if ye treat me right. I usta be a blacksmith in Oklahoma until a bookin’ agent saw me Straighten a@ bent crowbar with me bare hands. My right name is Bilt Holt, but when I git back they’re gonna book me as Blaskoff, the Russian Lion. What’s your name?” “ Woggle, sir?” “All right, Mr. Wobble, I got an idee you an’ me are goin’ to git along great.” Sure,” said Rufus gulping unhappily. “* When’s this outfit goin’ to start home?” “Week mebbe. She jest stopped here waitin’ fer orders.” “Good, Dll give ye the fifty bucks after she gits out on the ocean.” “I don’t like to take yer money,” said Rufus. That fist closed, that gorilla-like coun- tenance took on a savage look. “ Gittin’ cold feet?” “IT mean ye’re a good fella to gimme that much,” Rufus quickly interposed. “Oh,” said Holt, relaxing apparently all over. It was a process something like de- flation. ‘“‘1’m gonna leave everything to you,” he went on. “ You fix everything up so’s I’m comi’table until she gits started, then I'll come out on deck and make myself at home. Guess they ain’t nobody on that wagon I need be scared of. Especially if I crown one o’ them early, so’s the others will watch out” “Yes, sir, that’s right, sir.” A PUNCH. COnvuiICGLooks (C@