Argosy All-Story Weekly, June 27, 1925 — page 132: what you’re looking at

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

‘ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. gas l] me to “Will you get out of baseball, se que ot te cle that want me, and leave Bolton forever?” Mabel smiled at him. a Wel I don’t,” he declared. Ad was just showing you fellows that this is a -_ match and not a scheme to sell stock. Now that you know I stay with the Bolton team, who makes the first subscription? — “Put me down for ten thousand, said the bank president, who had raised the orig- inal objection. ‘“ You don’t have to con- vince me any further.” Amid general laughter the meeting sub- THE “Tf you really v U scribed two-thirds of the total amount 35 stock offered for sale. To secure the re mainder would be a simple matter. And that’s how Bolton got lifted from the cellar of the league to the proug Position of a championship team. Mabe} finish third that season and, starting the next year where she left off, wan the championship and the world’s series. But as she sat in her box watching her husband pitch her team to victory, she really devoted more attention to a Smal bundle she held in her arms, Mabe] Main. waring Greening, future owner of the Cricketers. END 0 SOLDIERS OF FORTUNE H, peace has its glories, but we go where gore is, Wherever there’s trouble you find us about, For war caught us early, and war's hurly-burly Has got in our blood and we can’t get it out. We view with resentment all calm and contentment, We love the fierce tumult that rolls to the Stars, Let other men follow the trail of Apollo Or trot after Venus—but we follow Mars! The magic of Cupid to us seems but stupid, Minerva’s a pendant, and Bacchus a bum. The spell of Its hold on Red war! the muses is one that soon loses 4 man when the bugle-calls come. It is Muddy and ugly and bloody, It racks and it Maims you and leaves you with scars, The trail that will are hollow—but somehow we follow Not lyric Apollo, but truculent Mars! take us to any old fracas In any old Spot is the trail that we hit. We @ panther that’s penned behind bars, Cre slaves of adventure, and t hough the world censure We march to the music of militant Mars! Berton — SS e& AMICLOOO Co