Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 313: what you’re looking at

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

304 They looked their fill, and the more they looked, the more unhappy they became. The glittering letters held them as by a spell, and for two or three minutes they stood thcre, gazing at it, muttering their disappointment, and evidently at their wits’ end with dis- comfiture. “Oh, well, hang it,” said Haskell at length, “ there was bound to be others sooner or later, and it’s going to be a nip and tuck fight to see who comes out ontop. I guess you and I ain't going to be downed just by the sight of the first rival we come across.” He picked up his bag with one hand and flicked the perspiration from his brow with the other. ° “Come on,” he added, “ let’s find that American hotel the purser told us about.” Van Dorn lifted his bag, but they stood yet a moment before resuming their march, for just then down from the near by plaza came a young man at a swinging gait whose dress and man- ner proclaimed him instantly as any- thing but a Porto Rican. The two strangers glanced at each other signifi- cantly, and waited until their suspic- ions were confirmed. This happened when the young man turned into the office of the American Syndicate with an evident air of pro- prietorship. “ That. settles it, I guess,’”’ said Has- kell, “ and by gum, I think I know the: fellow. We'll find out about this, Van, before we’re an hour longer tn this hot hole.”’ Thereupon they proceeded, and after the varying fortune of all who have to inquire their way in a strange place, they arrived at the American hotel. “ Simon Haskell, Boston, U. S. A.,” was the way the portly man registered. The other, with a huge flourish, put himself down as “ Heinrich Van Dorn, New York and Vienna.” Experience in his new quarters had led Joe some time before this to make a rearrangement of his office outfit. THE ARGOSY. The little back room was no longer a barely turnished closet, sacred only to the manager’s private communings. As business grew he found it essential to separafe his callers. Accordingly the main office was now more in the nature of a reception room. ' The manager’s desk and the iron strong box, with one or two other nec- essary appurtenances, had been re- moved to the back room, and the door thereto was embellished with the words “ Private Office.” Thither Joe went as soon as he re- turned from the café where Victor had provoked a quarrel. He wrote a brief note to Captain Tooker of the regular army, apprising him of the fact that a quarrel was afoot. Tooker and Joe had been friends in boyhood. They had not met for many years, until chance brought them to- eether in Porto Rico. As is always the case, when acquaintances meet in a foreign country, such ties of friendship as they formerly recognized were in- tensihed, and Joe therefore had no hes- itation whatever in calling upon the captain to perform What might prove to be a delicate service for him. The faithful secretary was in the main office, busy with ice cream ac- counts. Joe gave him the note to Cap- tain Tooker, with instructions to de- liver it at once, and not wait for an answer. “On the way back,” he said, “ you may call at the post office and wait until the mail has been sorted. A boat got in from New York a.while ago, and it is pretty likely to have letters tor me that I shall want to see at once.” After the secretary nad gone, Joe busied himself in looking over the books relative to the ice cream venture, until he was interrupted by a caller. His first impression was, as the door opened, that Victor’s friend had come to deliver his formal challenge, but a glance showed him that this was a mis- take. It was an elderly man, plainly a civilian, who entered. Gon ElOOO CO