Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 18, 1925 — page 109: what you’re looking at

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

MODERN CASTAWAYS. had no way of knowing whether they ac- tually were what they claimed. One large hut, much bigger and better constructed than the rest, proudly pro- claimed its wares by a well-illumined sign which extended all the way across its broad front. TIMES SQUARE THEATER First Run Pictures The audience had apparently abandoned the show in favor of the attraction outside, for they were banked six grinning rows deep before the entrance to- the theater. “For th’ cryin’ out loud!” Dynamite Breen mumbled over and over in an awed voice as they marched along. KIWYOURRANIAN HOT DOGS A NICKEL, Kindly have exact change ready So read the bold inscription above a small boothlike stall, in which a greasy, black-skinned fellow held forth. Orderly piles of round, flat, buff-colored edibles— evidently Kiwyourranian Hot Dogs—lined the counter before him, but business was practically at a standstill. The two white men were the attraction de luxe. The party, with the crowd surging in be- hind their line of march, proceeded to the far end-of the lighted thoroughfare and halted, at a signal from the leader, before a moderate sized, round domed, thatched hut. A neatly lettered sign over the low doorway announced: HOTEL ASTOR A room with a bath for a dollar and a half. Underneath this legend, in considerably — smaller letters, appeared a tense admoni- tion to “ Try and Get It.” With an elaborate bow the burly leader motioned the two white men to go inside. They hesitated tremulously. It was dark in there—the sea of black faces on three sides of them were grinning expectantly. Suppose this was a trap—the novel, native method of decapitating their prisoners. Suppose— “You go first, Dynamite!” Ammon suggested feebly. The fighter gave a slight shudder, flung back his burly shoulders, projected his un- dershing jaw aggressively, clenched both hairy fists and started forward. “ C’mon,” 259 he hissed grimly. “ We'll put a dinge or two to th’ cleaners before they get us.” Inside the blackness was intensified by contrast with the lighted street they had just left. They groped for several tense sec- onds in the dark—-nothing happened. A sudden click and the place was flooded with light. Blinking confusedly they observed the presence of the celluloid collar leader of their guard of honor who had noiselessly followed them in and snapped on the light. Without a word he pointed to four banked cots arranged in an orderly row along the far wall of the hut. Night passed without incident and in the morning, while the still dazed guests of the Hotel Astor were breakfasting from a num- ber of unfamiliar though by no means un- savory native dishes, an emissary from the royal palace made his appearance. “ Hello, white guys!” he announced, by way of in- troducing himself. Both glanced up to see a diminutive, el- derly black person with a head several sizes too large for his wizened body grinning at them from the doorway. “ Hello, yourself!” Ammon replied jaun- tily. “Caploca toney slub slub guzzo,” said the native—or words to that effect. A good night’s rest and a full stomach had done wonders for Lew Ammon and Dy- namite Breen. “Sure,” nodded the latter, genially, “ we'll take six of ’em—red ones.” The native’s grin expanded. “ You come —go king—gotta see,” he declared in gut- tural English. “What say, George?” asked Lew. “King gotta see—you come—damn quick!” The black punctuated this re- mark with a series of explanatory gestures. “ There’s a king in the deck some place,” Ammon explained to his companion, “ An’ we're evidently invited to have a chat with the old boy. Guess we better start trav- elin’.” He rose and stuffed a last, sticky morsel of food in his mouth. “ These here kings take themselves pretty serious—they have to, because there ain’t many of ’em left any more.” Outside Dynamite Breen, who once had worked in a garage, uttered an exclamation: comichoo S:€Om ey < »* a tot — sr re See