Argosy, Vol. 118, No. 4 — page 119: what you’re looking at

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

THE BIG BOSS IN BRONZE. ‘They attacked you! You were de- fending, yourself, Douglass, my man! That was it, eh? It must have been that way.” Chaplain Allan was anxiously apostro- phizing his protégé from the side-lines. But Douglass was in no mood to accept mediation of that sort. ‘‘ No such damn thing!’”’ was the shocking retort. ‘ Let me at ’em!” He struggled violently with the guards. : Warden Cates, hurrying with a fat man’s waddling gait, arrived on the scene and de- manded to know the whys and wherefores. Douglass ceased not from declaiming his threats. He shouted down the chajlain who was trying to offer the self-defense plea. Dr. Shepard had followed at the heels ‘of his superior; in devotion to certain the- ories that he had been maintaining, he voiced his opinion in tones that he did not guard. “It’s what comes of playing favor- ites and letting ’em get the idea that this isn’t a State prison!” : It was promptly plain that the lenient warden felt that his discretion had been challengéd in public. In standing straight, in the exercise of his authority, as is usu- ally the case, he immediately leaned back- ward. For reasons connected with Squire Nile, Douglass had been favored by the warden, and the warden knew it and pro- ceeded to protect himself. ‘‘ Put the con- vict Douglass in the doghole. Put the other two there!”’ he commanded sharply. And the guards showed great alacrity in obeying, roughly handling the three cul- prits. The doghole was deep in the prison’s bowels, under the cell-tiers. There was an iron ‘outer door, then half a dozen stone steps, and on the level thus reached were several narrow chambers carved from the limestone foundations on which the prison was built. Each cell had its iron door. The prisoners were locked, each in. his chamber. Then the big outer door was slammed. Douglass, rising from his knees—he had been tossed in rudely and had stumbled— found the darkness horrible after the glare of the sun outside. The black night, here, 989 seemed to have a consistency that could be bitten into! ears. Then he heard something. It was the low growl of a man’s voice. ‘‘ ‘ Tudge!’ Put your ear down to the crack—the old way!” It was evident that these gentlemen who shared the doghole with Convict Douglass had had experience with dogholes before. ‘“ $-s-s-s—shoot!’’ was the response on the other side of Douglass’s cell. The conditions of that black night under the Norway pines were restored—were the same! A blind man recognizes a voice with even more instantaneous conviction than is displayed in a sighted person’s rec- ognition of a face. By this time Douglass hadn’t any fur- ther doubts. Unfortunate though his pre- dicament was, he felt like blessing it. His ears convinced him—his eyes were not able to argue him into any more uncertainty. These weré his men! “Hey, you! Ring-tailed tiger!” called the man with the gruff voice. He was obliged to address several other sobriquets to Douglass before the young man realized that he was thus being summoned into con- ference. He put his mouth close to the crack under the door and reported ungraci- ously. ‘I’m listening!” ‘* ‘You’re some operator!”’ ‘“ S-s-s-S—some operator,” agreed the man on the other side. “IT take back what I said about your being a dude.” ‘“ $-s-s-s—same here!” “TI recognize a top-line Tom when I meet him! TI’ll say you’re all right, and then about nine plus!” ‘“$-s-s-s—same here!”’ It was undisguised admiration and ap- preciation. Douglass knew much about the methods of thought employed by men who dealt in violence and who, therefore, re- spected prowess that was superior. He was not especially surprised by this sudden The silence throbbed in his warming to him: but he was not mollified or flattered. ‘“No hard feelings, bo! two to one proposition.” ‘“S-s-s-s—sure did!” You capped a nn (Cl Q) NOOK