Argosy, Vol. 123, No. 2 — page 119: what you’re looking at

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

MONEY Goodtimes nodded. “‘ Uhuh! Dat ’pears to be de right way, too. Ev’ybody gwine be standin’ dah astin’ deyse’f when is de corpse gwine come along, an’ dey gwine be sho’ to see you if’n you’s one o’ de live membahs.”’ “ Prezac’ly, Brudder Goodtimes—pre- zac’ly. That’s the mos’ mainest idea. Now, disyeah picture wuz tooken o’ one o’ the fun’ral processions of a very lowly membah, an’ you sees fo’ yo’se’f whut it Is. The mo’ high a membah stan’s, the mo’ bigger is his fun’ral.”’ The photograph certainly showed some procession. ‘There was no denying that. Cuthbert was proud of that picture. He wasn’t exactly sure what the procession was which was shown thereon, but it was a large one, and that was enough. He had found the picture where some one dropped it on St. Charles Street in New Orleans, and it had made an instantaneous hit with him. The Grand Exalted was very proud of his arrangement of the funeral—placing the living before the dead—and every one in the place liked it; every one except Pete. He liked nothing which ee to do with Cuthbert. He felt positive that bee was something wrong about this well-fed negro, who wore such loud and flashy clothes, and whose ~ cable-like watch-chain wended its glistening way across a striped vest of ample propor- tions. Pete knew that here was fraud rampant —and he knew something else, and that was that by the time the other negroes dis- covered this fraud the Knights and Ladies of the Guiding Light would be smashed to smithereens and Pete’s glory ground in the dust. And then Cuthbert spied Pete. The Grand Exalted International Organizer walked over to the old man. “ Brudder Pete, you’s been down heah in thisyeah country a long time, ain’t you?” Pete’s old back straightened. The Hon- orable Cuthbert had now broached a sub- ject on which Pete could converse for hours without stopping. “Yassah, sho’ is. Been down heah in Honduras gwine on twenty-five yeahs. -promisin’ talk wid his mouf. BALKS. 251 Been right heah since even when dey wa’n’t no Tela. Knows ev’ybody, an’ ev’body knows me. Mah name is Pete Presley, but mos’ fo’ks calls me Slave’y Time Pete, -an’ dem whut don’ call me dat, calls me jes’ Pete.” Cuthbert smiled. ‘‘Uhuh! I sees. An’ you of co’se is gwine come in us’s lodge? As I understan’s it, there ain’t gwine be no Knights an’ Ladies o’ the Guidin’ Light after all the membahs o’ that lodge gits into. the Kings an’ Queens, an’ I’s suah you 8 gwine to want to be with the yuth- ers.’ Cuthbert appeared lost in thought for a moment. ‘“I’s sorry that I can’t offer you a official position in the lodge us is organ- izin’, but all them positions is tooken. Brudder Big Gun heah is gwine be the biggest man in the lodge—he’s gwine be Mos’ High an’ Exalted Shinin’ Triple Star. That’s the mos’ high office whut they is in a subo’dinate lodge.” Pete shook his head. to jine.” ‘““T ain’t suah us: wants Pete in us’s lodge,” declared Big Gun. “Us kin run dis lodge widout Pete buttin’ in. Let him keep his ol’ Knights an’ Ladies o’ the Guidin’ Light if’n he wants to. He kin be de whole lodge by hisse’f.” Without a word Pete turned and stalked from the room. Outside, his prize-fighter friend, Kid -Scoot, joined him. Pete turned to his friend. ‘“‘ You ain’t let dat “TI ain’t wantin’ crooked niggah hook you in on his scheme, . is you, Kid?” Kid shook his head. ‘ No—I ain’t put in mah application, not yit. But de Gran’ Salted sho’ do make mos’ promisin’ talk wid his mouf.” | Pete snorted. ‘ Dat’s all he do make— No-o, he’s makin’ sumthin’ else—he’s makin’ fools out’n all dem niggahs: dat’s whut he’s doin’. Dat niggah’s crooked—dat’s whut he is.”’ Pete paused and stared at the ground. After a little he spoke again. ‘‘ How much money is dat niggah done tooken in fum dese Tela fools?” Kid thought for a moment. “ Fum whut I heahs, dey’s about a hund’ed an’ COMICLO© S C@