Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 124, No. 2 — page 192: what you’re looking at

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

374 I am, Henning! That sober breed is the kind that pulls the dirtiest tricks—that staid, steady, reliable, honest kind! And I'll get Noble! Ill get him if it takes me fifty years!” “T know, but you can’t go without eat- ing or sleeping for fifty years,’ said Thomas. ‘Give me that gun, will you, until you calm down?” “Eh? Is he still in town? Is he here?” cried the suspicious William. ‘No, he’s gone to Chicago,” said his late friend, to whom much practise was making lying actually easier than the truth. ‘“ He'll ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. be back-soon. I just heard from him! I—” He paused. His mouth remained open. There are possibly fifty people alive to- day who whistle the “ Mikado” music while going about their daily affairs. One of them lived in Braydon. He was Peter Noble. And now, before the very door, somebody was whistling the impressive aria of the “‘ Three Little Maids from School!” More than this, an informal hand was trying the wretched door and the wretched door was opening with its accustomed: ease! Peter Noble, with what was for him an unusually playful bound was in their midst. This story will be concluded in next week’s issue of the ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, the conselidated title under which both magazines will appear hereafter as one. fre by Marc Edmund Jones ~* : HE car, sparklingly new in every line and in every bit of polished nickel, mounted the hill with the speed and power of a combat airplane. Muffled in a heavy driving coat as freshly acquired as the machine, a young man at the wheel di- rected its course with one hand and all the nonchalance of a professional aviator. In his other arm, nestled with perfect content, rested a girl. She was enveloped in a duster which had yet to achieve a wrinkle or a speck of dirt; and her flying veil, designed to destroy eyesight with black dots as big as pennies, refused to hold any number of strands of bright yellow hair in check, and declined entirely to cover her eyes, which were closed and left to the pro- tection of long and attractive lashes. Digitized by (Go gle At the brow of the lengthy incline there was a sudden gasp from the man; a start, and a cry of fright from the girl as she opened her eyes. Not thirty feet away was a short, sharp curve to the left, over a nar- row, wooden railroad bridge. At the speed they were making it would be impossible to keep the road. A crash into the flimsy sides of the viaduct would tumble them to the road below, and certain death. She shrank away from her companion, instinctively leaving him free to cope with the situation. He jammed on the brakes. Ahead was a fine lawn, but no driveway leading to'the house. Nevertheless the driver kept on straight, running up onto the grass and managing to bring the little racer to a stop within a bare foot of the porch. = ~ . ~ =~ * =iGinal frome(Clo} fA eXels)|, he An = ae F OHIO STATE UNIVERSITY