The Argosy, Vol. XXV, No. 1 — page 64: what you’re looking at

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

64 SULLIVAN JONES’ BOARDERS, headquarters for a large force of men who are relaying the Pottsville division of the Reading Road which was almost entirely destroyed in a recent flood. | II. Up along the river road at a cozy little farm house, Tom Lurgan and Charlie Rogers were spending a two weeks’ vacation. ‘They both had posi- tions in a large clothing store in Harrisburg, and chose this way of passing their holidays from reasons of economy. It was Saturday evening and they were on their way down to the post © office to get their mail. ‘Do you know, Charlie,’’ said Tom abruptly, ‘‘I would give a good deal to know what those two men are doing in Dauphin. ‘They have been here now for nearly a week and they know very little about fishing, for I don’t be- lieve either of them has caught a bass yet, though they go out on the river every day.’’ ‘‘Tt zs strange,’’ replied Charlie. ‘‘ Did you notice they can’t even handle their rods right ?”’ “Ves? continued Tom, ‘‘ and I discovered a very queer thing yesterday. You know young Carson down by the lock? Well, he says this man Mort- lock bought an old boat and a pair of oars from him, and has it hidden among the rocks down at the foot of the wall somewhere near the curve. Carson took it down for him, and Mortlock said he wanted to use it to go fishing early in the morning. It may be very foolish and all that, but I can’t ‘help feeling that these men are here for a purpose. We will keep our eyes open, anyhow.”’ } When the boys reached the post office, early as it was, the tavern porch across the way was filled, and the crowd were singing scraps of songs. ‘‘What’s up tonight ?’’ asked Tom. ‘‘Well,’’ replied the postmaster, ‘‘ you see it’s pay night, an’ they’re feelin’ purty good. ‘They haven’t been paid fur nigh onto three weeks or more, an’ tonight the paymaster comes down here with the stuff.’’ ‘‘When does he get here?’’ asked Tom. ‘Well, let me see. The pay car reaches Ellendale Forge at half past seven. From there the road ain’t been tested yet, so the paymaster takes the hand truck an’ comes on down ter Dauphinon that. I believe he goes on down ter Rockville an’ Harrisburg, an’ pays the men off there, too. He'll get here in an hour or too, for it’s half past six now.”’ ‘‘ Much obliged,’’ said Tom, and the boys left the post office. As they crossed over toward the tavern, a man came running up ex- citedly from the direction of the station. It was Mike Malley, the road fore- man. ‘Stir yourselves,’’ he shouted to the loungers on the porch. ‘‘ Thar’sa landslide up at Powel’s Creek, an’ the bridge is gone, an’ the wires cut off. Thar’s no time to lose, so come on now, all of you. We must do all we kin tonight yet.’’ Some grumbling followed this startling piece of news. Eomicbooks (S) e's |