Argosy All-Story Weekly, January 21, 1922 — page 125: what you’re looking at

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

THE KISS TABOO, then. The six braves, dragging the half- drowned Duano back to the palace, were six excellent reasons for respecting majesty; also the certainty that they were but offi- cers whose men would gather from behind that ungodly row of women at a word. Duano was sadly sober now—sober and sad enough to use his wits to their utmost at the command of any one. The chief seized him, shook him roughly, began to talk to him. “ Chief say Missah Dassum make nice how-do for one womans.” “Huh?” Dascomb roared at him for more lucid talk than that. “Me no savvey.”’ “One woman, Missah Dassum make how-do like—’’ and Duano managed a re- sounding smack. “Oh!” The vowel sounded like some- thing deflating. “Much nice how-do—womans she like plenty. Chief.say plenty good. You like wifey. He bring womans. You no like. Then him savvey. You got new, nice how- do for womans. All womans like how-do allee-same like one womans.” | The blear-eyed chief was watching every gesture, his glance traveling swiftly from speaker to hearer. He seemed to sense that his general meaning was being properly in- terpreted. He nodded vigorously, and worked his half-paralyzed facial muscles to reproduce his grin. And Dascomb was getting it. He had displayed favoritism. It had been all right, had he been thereby indicating choice of a wife for himself. Now it was all wrong. It was more wrong than he supposed. Du- ano was going on to explain that the kissed lady was of much inferior rank to many who might have been kissed. “Me sorry,” he apologized with genuine humility. The chief grinned some more. He as- sured Dascomb there was nothing at all to be sorry about. The lady had liked the new greeting. All the other ladies were eager to be greeted. And he, their rightful protector from all unfairness and injustice, was there to see that they were greeted. Yes, it was just that for Dascomb. The more he tried to excuse himself, the clearer 115 it got that excuses were of no avail; when he said outright that he couldn’t do it, it was indicated that six men were here and twenty times six outside, willing and anx- ious to render all assistance needed to make it possible for him to square things with the slighted ladies. ' Dascomb realized that he would come off better with less force than with more. He gave one groan and one despairing glance toward Kilaue and a sea unmarked by sign of white man’s vessel hastening to the rescue. Kitters ought to have got there. He could have had the island as a giit. « As Dascomb went out of that great room of many uses, he came almost face to face with a full-length mirror. He saw only one thing in it. It was the cute little mustache he wore because Jessie Duncan said he mustn’t. He repented of that mustache. Like all his other repentences, it was too late. 4 The ladies braced themselves to atten- tion at his appearance. He headed toward the middle of the line. He balked. Squarely in front of him sat an enormous creature who seemed in danger of bursting a dress made of more full-width gores than Dascomb could count. She was chewing beetle nut. The brilliant juice had not quite cleared her numerous chins. A trick- ling stream of it dripped from her ample bosom. But he was to have time to brace him- self for that. He was led to the end of the line. An ancient dame, her monkey face a mass of wrinkles, removed a blackened clay pipe from her lips and tucked its stem through the earring holes in the lobes of her ears, before she raised her expectant grin. Dascomb gulped. Then he did it. The old lady sighed with relief. The next was fat and forty. She wiped her lips with the back of a grimy hand, and held them up. And Dascomb gulped—and did it. She giggled and wiped her lips again. The next was a sad-eyed creature who smiled at him through misty tears. He should have been glad to bring the smile, if he hadn’t tasted the tear. He looked back and counted—one, two, three. Slight- ly over one per cent of his job was done. comicloool C©