Argosy All-Story Weekly, June 27, 1925 — page 116: what you’re looking at

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

312 spreading as ink dropped into water will spread. Near his hand was an empty brewn bottle, and his lips and mouth still smarted with the stimulant. And beyond the bottle lay Margery Corbin, lying in a little heap with eyes closed. Friday Pepper was nowhere to be seen. An inch at a time the courageous young outlaw worked his way to Margery’s side. The rain continued to slash down upon then. “ Margie!” he whispered. “ Margie!” Her eyes went open; a faint smile flut- tered at her beautiful lips. “ Am I dreaming?” “J dunno,” he said thoughtfully. “ Mebbe we're both dreamin’.” " Did I leap from the lid of the stand- j Te “Nope, | clumb up and toted you down.” She sighed blissfully. ‘I thought you were dead. And I—I couldn’t live with- out you. Kiss me, Larry.” His lips, cold and wet with rain, met hers. “You love me, don’t you, dear?” “ Sure, I love you. You're one sweet kid and I wanted to die when I thought you’d gone and jumped into that there tank. I thought I had died. Matter of fact, I ain’t so doggoned sure we ain’t both dead right now.” ‘But we're togetner, dear, that’s what counts.” “Sure, we're together, but are we dead or alive, that’s what I want to know. Everything’s different, ain’t it? That canon’s different, ain’t it? And look at that cloud. Did you ever see a cloud like that when you was alive? It looks like it’s made of tar. “And where’s Friday? Do you think he'd go off and desert us like this? The chances are, he’s standin’ nght here lookin’ at us and we can't see him. If you want my honest opinion, I think we're both dead. 1 feel kind of funny—all sort of a glowin’ inside, and that ain’t right, ‘cause look how cold and wet it is! Do you think mebbe that black cloud’s the world, and us are —somewhere else. And I can hear music, sort of, a long way off, and I feel happy ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, and uplifted like I did one time at a ro vival meetin’ at Snarlin’ Gulch.” “That’s queer,” Margery said breath. lessly. “ I—I feel the same way, al] glow- ing and—-and happy. And everything seems to be whirling a little. What—what is that orchestra playing, dear? Do yoy hear it?” Red Wiulpin lifted his eyes and listened intently. “ It sounds like ‘ What’ll I do?’ to me.” The girl, too, listened. ‘ No, dear, it’s ‘California, Here I Come!’ I’m sure. Pye danced to it so often! I wish we coulg dance now.” He smiled wistfully. “ I sure would like to shake a leg. But this mud don’t make a very good dance floor.”’ Margery suddenly covered her eyes with one hand. “Honey,” she said faintly, ““That one symptom is worse now. Every- thing is whirling terribly.” “ Feel kind of sick to your stomach Marge?” Sd ¢¢ Yes! ? He reached down and picked up the empty brown bottle that floated in the water. ‘“ Margie,” he said, “‘ we ain’t dead. We ain’t even dreamin’. Look at this here vicious article I hold in my hand, The only thing wrong with us is we ain’t used to this cheap, synthetic stuff they peddle in Yumpa.” “You—you mean, Friday gave it to us while we were both unconscious?” “ Ayop! He must have gave each of us purty near half a pint!” “Then we are alive!” she cried. look, dear! The rain has stopped!” It was true. The rain had stopped. And now the air was filled with the roar of a mighty wind, a blast that might have is- sued from the throat of some Brobdingnag- jan trumpet, and there was in its deep- voiced note something that was ominous and sinister and threatening. Hand in hand the lovers arose from the mud puddle. High above them, sil- houetted starkly against the racing inky cloud, stood Friday Pepper. He was perched upon Sentry Rock, and he was wildly gesticulating to them. TA COnniEaoo () SS Co