The Argosy, April 1916 — page 108: what you’re looking at

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

98 There was a confidential, mutual-under- standing sound to it that produced a dis- tinct jolt in Barry’s system. “T thought she’d tag along behind us with the flivver. Of course she seen that he’s soused. He was all right when we left the last roadhouse, but, when I saw him going, I just had sense enough to pull the switch and shut her off. You're getting the right idea; only don’t dump us in the ditch.” Her words had given his nerves another turn that showed in his steering. The blond lady shut off her confidential talk. After all there was but one thing for him to do. He must get the over-stimulated gentleman and his over-attired spouse to their home, regardless of considerations of their desirability. He devoted himself to the job, which was plenty of job for him. - “Better switch over to the Grand Boule- vard,”’ the woman advised, as they finally approached Fordham Road. “Or Univer- sity Avenue would be the best of all. gotta get to 778 Riverside Drive.”’ Oh, well, he thought, lots of well-to-do people talked so much slang they forgot how to talk any other way. Enough for him that he was getting to understand handling the car. He was needing to do so more every moment, as he got into more and more populated territory. “We'll turn right over Washington Bridge,” she spoke again after a while, “but, say—wait a minute here. I'll just go in that drug store and telephone home and have the doctor there brace him up. His heart ain’t none too strong.” Barry stopped the car abruptly. He was rather proud of stopping it with any de- gree of immediateness on demand. ‘The blond lady got out and entered the drug store, a triangular affair on the ground floor of a V-shaped house fitting into the point where the avenue they were on slanted across another street. With the lady out of the way, Barry had better opportunity to give the overstimu- lated gentleman a little more scrutiny than the excitement of the first moments had per- mitted. He certainly was pretty far gone. Barry had seen a few three-beer college drunks in his life; also he had once visited a slum street on a Saturday night and seen some big drunks. | But this man—Barry tried to think of all the words he had ever heard used on drunks. Soused, pickled, inebriated, intoxicated, We _She wasn’t. THE ARGOSY. spifflicated—they sounded inadequate. Par- alyzed— Yes—that nearly hit it. Something about the word hinted at a little more than real drunkenness. Something about the man suggested more than mere alcoholic inebria- tion. Probably he was wrong, but it seemed to Barry that a fat man with a bloated face ought to look red when drunk. This man was fat as a Cheshire porker, and he was putty white. The man’s condition made him nervous. Somehow the shout of a newsboy hawking an extra annoyed him, as the sound of it in- terfered with his listening to the peculiar breathing of his passenger. 7 “Extra! Extra! All about the Red- dington bank robbery— all about the auto- thieves!” What did he care about a robbery and thieves? This man might die on his hands while his over-blond companion seemed to. be taking time to telephone all over New York. é Barry prodded the man suddenly, his in- terest becoming acute. There was one more drunk in his memory, old Bill Lunny, the village drunkard up in his New Hampshire home village. Old Billy used to sleep off his sprees anywhere he happened to tumble. The older boys would prod him with sticks to get him into a helpless rage. Barry prodded again. The man did not even grunt. Yet he was obviously breath- ing; he was almost snoring. Barry turned to see if the blond lady was not coming back yet from her telephoning. terior was very visible, with windows on both sides, so that one could see through to the other street. She was not in sight. The telephone booth was in the visible part. Barry could see the whole of its empty inside through the open door. He got out of the car with a bounce and hurried inside the store. Nobody was there. A clerk, after a few seconds, bobbed into view from behind the prescription room partition. “Where did that big blond lady go?” Barry demanded fearfully. ‘The one that short-cut across the store? I don’t know,” the clerk informed him. “She went out at that door. What did you want of her? She your wife? Is she—” But Barry did not wait to discuss who the blond lady might be. He dashed out at MICLOOOK Most of the drug-store’s in- — C©@