The Argosy, Vol. XXV, No. 1 — page 46: what you’re looking at

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

46 A PERUVIAN PARADISE, out of the skirts of the tunic like a pair of broom sticks. And as for Fitch— well, he was a sight! He had lost none of his corpulency while in captivity, and the llama skin tunic fitted him as tightly as his own cuticle. His waist line had disappeared some years before and his aldermanic proportions were much ez evidence as he strutted about the room. The first intimation he and Ford had that they were observed was a burst of laughter from Keeth in the doorway. ‘“ Hullo ! you there?’’ exclaimed Ford, in disgust. ‘‘ What sort of ballet dancers do we make?’”’ “Oh, you’re out of sight !’’ Keeth declared, between his:chuckles, ‘‘ If you could only see yourselves! Fitch, you look like a keg of ale on stilts.’ ‘“Ho, ho! that’s a good one on you, Fitch !’’ roared Ford, in delight. ‘“And you look like a superannuated clothespin,”’ added the engineer, turning to his chum with a broad grin. ““Aw—g’wan! I bet I don’t look any worse than you,’’ responded Ford, though with less hilarity. ‘“T don’t know about that,’’ said Keeth. ‘‘ Somehow your bones—you ave awiully bony, Ford—project out into the ambient atmosphere really more than they should. You need upholstering, my son.”’ ‘Well, you cyn’t say that of me, Mr. Keeth,’’ interposed Fitch. ‘“No ; it’s a pity you couldn’t turn over some of your superabundance of flesh to poor Ford, and thus even things up. Oh, you two are sights !”’ ‘“My ancestors were used to kilts,’’ said Kinsale reflectively. ‘‘It’s a pity if I haven’t enough Scotch blood in me to carry off a little thing like this. I don’t believe I look as bad as you say, Ronald.”’ ‘It’s lucky you’re so unbelieving, old man,’’ returned Keeth coolly ; ‘* for if you really knew how badly you look, I shouldn’t be able to get you outside the door yonder. And it has become very necessary that we do get outside,’’ he added, more gravely. ‘“‘ Why, what’s up? Anything new?”’ ‘The old priest is in a very bad way ; in fact, he’s dying,’’ said Keeth. ‘* By Jove! you don’t mean it?” ‘Hour cake’s dough, sure enough !’’ exclaimed the Engl: shina ‘‘ We are in a bad box, there’s no denying it,’’ said Keeth, in a lew voice. ‘(We must get away this very night. Will you risk it?”’ ‘‘ Hi’ve said Hi would, an’ H’im just as ready now as Hi was then.’’ ‘“Of course we’ll go,’’ said Ford. ‘‘ Think we want to stay here and have that Gonnatzl roast us on the altar yonder some fine day? I suppose you'll try the river bed ?”’ ‘«’That seems to be our only chance—and to tell you the truth, boys, I think ¢ha?’s a mighty slim one.’’ ‘Tf Rodriguez ’’ began Ford. ‘“ We're not positive the man whom they say was lost there was Jose,’’ interrupted Keeth. ‘‘ But however that may be, I cast my vote for trying it this night.” : ‘* Hi’m with you,’’ responded Fitch quietly. Ford nodded. ‘‘I shan’t stay here alone,” he said. ‘‘ Fitch and I Eomichbooks a (S@)